


Sketching out a Rough Plan

by holdouttrout



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Swan Queen Week Summer 2016, and they're halfway competent in this fic, but i like them anyway, storybrooke has the worst sheriffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9157192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdouttrout/pseuds/holdouttrout
Summary: Emma's been practicing a new hobby, and it turns out to be useful in an unusual (for Storybrooke, anyway) assault case--which gives Emma the courage to do something she's been thinking about for a while.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic from a Swan Queen Week prompt: Insecurities. I started thinking about potential hidden talents and why Emma might not want to share them--and then what other things she might be insecure about.

"Hi!"

Emma jumped and automatically flipped her sketchbook closed in a gesture she knew was straight out of junior high--which was, incidentally, the last time she'd tried carrying a sketchbook around. She turned to find David grinning at her. 

"Hi," Emma said. 

David lifted his chin to indicate the book. "Drawing something?"

"Oh, just… sketching."

"Can I see?"

"Oh, uh… I don't really think that there's anything exciting in there," Emma said, not entirely truthfully. She had recently started sketching again and she was improving, starting to remember how to make her hand draw the shapes and lines she saw. She'd even begun to carry around a little sketchbook--just a tiny thing, just something to occupy her hands while she was waiting at the diner or bored at her desk.

The only downside was that people were sort of curious about what she was drawing, which made her uncomfortable. She wasn't very good, and she'd rather people didn't look over her shoulder and judge things she made just for herself.

There was one other reason she hesitated to have people looking through her sketchbook, and she was sitting at the other end of the counter reading a book, completely oblivious to her presence.

David shrugged. "Okay," he said.

Emma relaxed. Sometimes it seemed like everyone pushed at her, and sometimes they would just… accept boundaries. Even arbitrary ones like this one. Maybe especially arbitrary ones like this one. 

"Wanna have lunch with your favorite daughter?" Emma asked.

David smiled. Beamed, really; he liked when she made bad family jokes with him. "I'm just picking up an order to go today. I'm on baby duty this afternoon."

"Right. Archery."

"Archery," David agreed. Snow had started up a league of archery aficionados and tromped out into the woods each Thursday with ten to twenty men and women to shoot at targets and scare off the local wildlife for a few hours. It was, apparently, a valuable emotional outlet for Snow.

"Order up!" Granny called, bringing a to-go bag over to David.

David took it. "Thanks, Granny," he said. He turned to Emma and said, "See you tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow," Emma answered. She finished the few remaining bites of her lunch and opened her sketchbook again, making a few additions to her latest sketch before glancing at her watch and getting up to go.

In a hurry, she didn't bother putting the book away in her bag, just tucked it under one arm. 

"See you later, Emma!" Granny called as Emma reached the end of the counter and headed for the door.

Emma turned to say goodbye and the book slipped out from under her arm onto the floor, falling open right below the stool currently occupied by Regina.

Regina jumped.

"Oh, sorry," Emma said. "That's mine, I'll just--" she reached down to grab the book but Regina had already slid off her stool and bent down to pick it up.

With dawning horror, Emma realized it had fallen open to the last page, the page she'd been drawing on, the page that held a relatively recognizable sketch of Regina herself, seated at the end of the counter at Granny's.

Regina looked down at the book with an unreadable expression. "You drew this?"

"Uh… yeah. Sort of a hobby," Emma said.

Regina gazed at the sketch for a few more seconds. "It's not bad," she said. She flipped the book shut and handed it to Emma. "My arm looks too long."

Emma let out a breath and chuckled. Leave it to Regina to make 'not bad' sound like a compliment and then follow it up with criticism. "I'm working on proportions," Emma promised. "You should see some of my earlier attempts. There's one where your head is twice as long as it should be."

She froze as she realized what she'd said, but Regina didn't seem to notice. She just raised an eyebrow and said, "If you get good enough, maybe you could quit your day job and do caricatures in the park. It might save the town from complaints about illegal search and seizure." Regina had the look on her face that reminded Emma of the early days, when Regina would inevitably have the perfect one-liner to put Emma in her place--only now there was a light in her eyes that hinted at genuine humor.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Ha ha. Very funny."

"Maybe." Regina looked at her own watch and picked up her own bag from the counter. "But there would be less paperwork for you to ignore."

Emma tucked the sketchbook into her bag where it belonged this time. "Maybe I'll give it some thought. Hey, if there's anyone out there with one arm longer than the other, I'm ready"

Regina did not laugh at Emma's stupid jokes generally, and she didn't break now--not completely, anyway, but there was that little crinkling around her eyes that gave her away. Emma grinned and held the door for Regina as they left the diner.

**** Several Months Later ****

"How can she not know who stabbed her? I thought everyone in Storybrooke knew everyone else!" 

Snow frowned and said, "Well, I'm glad you refrained from asking the victim that question. And… Storybrooke may be small, but it's not _that_ small. Remember all the missing persons posters right after the first curse broke?"

"My God, you're right. I've completely lost perspective." Emma turned toward Snow and shook a finger at her. "It's because we're royalty, isn't it? I'm starting to think the world revolves around me. Next thing you know I'm going to be looking for tiaras on ebay and carrying around little dogs in purses."

Snow rolled her eyes. "Yes, Emma. You seem like the type to like little yappy dogs."

"Actually, that seems more your speed." 

The jibe didn't have quite the effect she'd intended. Snow visibly softened, her eyes doing that Disney princess limpid pools of light thing that Emma had definitely not inherited. "Well, tiny dogs… they're so cute and little and cuddly..."

Emma snorted. "Well, I'm not in the market for one yet, anyway. I just need to figure out who this guy is and lock him away so he doesn't stab anyone else."

"Oh!" Snow said, brightening. "You could make a wanted poster! Ask people to call if they know anything about this person."

"Okay, but it's not like I have a picture of the guy. Just a description. And we don't have a sketch artist."

Snow shrugged. "You could do it."

"Uh… what?"

"I've seen you draw before."

Emma laughed. 

"Emma!" Snow said, in her best 'disappointed mom' tone. "I'm serious. You're good."

Emma shook her head. "I don't--I mean, I sketch things, but nothing like that!" She had kept up sketching--even daring to show a few of her better ones to a few people here and there--and she was getting better, but this? No way.

Snow was not to be dissuaded. "I've seen your sketches. Me, Henry, Regina… the dwarves. David! And they've all looked like them."

"But I draw them from life! It's totally different! Besides, that's just something to keep my hands occupied. It's not anything special."

"How do you know unless you try?" There was no arguing with Snow when she used that utterly reasonable yet superior tone.

It was a sign of how desperate Emma was for any lead that she took her pencil and sketch pad to the hospital the next day and sat down with her victim, sixty-seven-year-old Mrs. MacKellen, formerly a grandmother in the Enchanted Forest and now a grandmother with a killer instinct for pool. She spent most of her nights in the Rabbit Hole, cleaning out men a third her age--which worked out great for her, except one of her marks took exception to being beaten by the unassuming old woman.

"It's just an idea, and I've never done this before, but if you're willing to try, then so am I," Emma said.

Mrs. MacKellen said, "Worst case scenario your drawing sucks and I can make fun of you, right?"

Emma thought that this was the most likely outcome, but Mrs. MacKellen, after an hour and two attempts, said that the finished sketch looked just about right to her. "I remember those tiny eyes," she said with a shudder. Judging by the rest of his face, the guy didn't have much going for him. His chin was weak and his nose looked like it had been broken a few hundred times. Emma scanned in the sketch, resized it for the posters, and printed off a few hundred or so.

She enlisted Henry's help to put them up (he'd been doing self-directed 'internships' around town, although she suspected he was only interning at the Sheriff's station so he wouldn't hurt David's feelings) and stapled a few on poles herself before heading back to the station. She wasn't there more than a couple of minutes before the phone rang.

"Sheriff's Station, Swan speaking."

"I know who it is," said a familiar voice. 

"Regina?" Emma said, thinking that she hoped Regina recognized her voice before she realized Regina was talking about the posters. "You do?"

"Henry brought home one of your posters. That man used to work in my stables. I think his name here is Melvin Jones."

"Melvin Jones? That's his name?" Emma said. "Was that the curse or you? It was probably you. What did he do? Braid your horse's mane to the left instead of to the right?"

There was a silence meant to indicate that Regina did not find her amusing. Emma could wait her out; she used the time to type in Melvin's name to get an address. Bless the curse's attention to detail--there was both a home and work address. She reached for a sticky note to jot them down.

"Your artwork has improved a lot."

"What? Oh! Thanks." That was a legitimate compliment, and Emma found herself smiling. "I don't think Melvin's going to like his portrait as much as you do, though."

This time, Regina did sound amused when she replied. "You're probably right. Do you need backup?"

"I'm texting Dad now; he'll meet me there. Unless you think Melvin has magic?"

"If that man had magic, he wouldn't have been working as a stablehand." Regina's tone was dismissive.

"Guess you're right. Thanks for the tip, good citizen."

There was another pointed silence and then a final click as the call disconnected. 

Picking up Melvin reminded Emma of her days as a bail bondsperson. He saw her. He ran. She chased. David cut him off at the end of an alley and he ducked through a door into an abandoned building--probably the only one in Storybrooke, and how that happened in Regina's designer curse Emma didn't know. She chased him up some rickety stairs and cornered him at the end of a narrow hallway. There was one window at the end, with no glass.

"Come on, Melvin. You know we're going to arrest you sooner or later," Emma said. She didn't like the way he was eyeing that window.

"I'd prefer later," he said, and jumped.

Emma ran to the window and saw Melvin scrambling down the side of a dumpster. She picked up her walkie, depressed the button, and said, "You got 'im?"

She watched as Melvin reached the edge of the building, turned the corner, and ran straight into David's shoulder. Melvin went down like a ton of bricks, and David had him flat and cuffed in about two seconds. He looked up and waved and Emma gave him a thumb's up. 

That night at Granny's, Emma was in a pretty good mood. Catching bad guys--especially when they couldn't do any magic and she could physically chase them down and lock them in her jail cells--was pretty satisfying on its own. Having everyone give her credit for the sketch that helped find the guy was even better.

"Well, it was Regina who recognized him," Emma said, trying for modesty and falling a bit short as Ashley exclaimed over her sketch versus Melvin's mugshot.

"Still!" Ashley said. "Seriously cool."

"Probably a once-in-a-lifetime fluke," Regina drawled from her own nearby perch.

Emma shrugged. "Probably." She tried but couldn't keep herself from smiling. "Still." 

Sean waved Ashley back over to their table. Emma sat down next to Regina and said, "You know, it's probably only thanks to you I kept sketching at all. So really, this is your fault."

"Thanks to me?" Regina said, surprised. "The only thing I remember saying about your sketching was criticism."

"Maybe, but it was honest, and you didn't laugh at the attempt."

Regina frowned. "Of course not. It was fine aside from some obvious glaring errors."

Emma smiled, and then she did something that she never, ever would have thought she'd have the courage to do. "So," she said casually, turning to face Regina more directly.

"Yes?" Regina raised an eyebrow, obviously sensing something was up.

"I've been meaning to ask you something." She took a deep breath. "Would you like to get dinner with me sometime?"

Regina tilted her head, bemused. "We get dinner--" 

It hit her, what Emma meant. Regina went stock still and then blinked at her--literally blinked like a cartoon character might when hit with a baseball bat. "Oh," Regina said.

Emma's heart was pounding and she regretted asking, just knowing that whatever Regina was going to say next was bad. Her scrutiny made Emma's throat go dry. She wanted to take it back, make this somehow less awkward, but the fact that Regina hadn't laughed or said 'hell, no, what were you thinking,' or 'let's never mention this again,' was… not completely discouraging.

And then Regina actually checked her out, scanning her from head to toe. Slowly. Emma flushed everywhere she looked. Regina brought her hand up and deliberately rested it on Emma's forearm before looking right into her eyes.

"Saturday. Seven-thirty. Don't be late." Regina stood and took a step away before pausing and turning back. "Not Granny's."

"Not Granny's," Emma echoed. She watched as Regina walked through the crowd.

Snow sat down on the seat next to her. "My feet are killing me." She peered at Emma, frowning. "Is everything alright? You look like you've been electrocuted."

"What? Oh, yeah," Emma said. She craned her neck. Regina was just at the door, her hair swishing in that familiar way Emma had found herself looking for so many times. She turned and looked at Emma with the tiniest smirk on her face. Emma was _so_ sketching that smirk later tonight. 

"What are you looking at?" Snow said, turning in her seat and missing Emma's answering grin as well as Regina's smirk, catching only the back of Regina's head as she left the diner.

"Oh, Emma." Snow sighed. Emma just knew she was going to laugh at whatever came next. "Are you and Regina fighting again?"

"Not yet," she said cheerfully.

Snow frowned at her. "Not yet?"

Emma got up. "I'll know Saturday. Well, Sunday. Well, Saturday. Probably." Unless the date went really, really well. She knew better than to count on that, especially where she and Regina were involved. She resolved to keep her focus on this one, singular date. She had to figure out where they were going--not Granny's, which left… not much in town. Maybe they should go somewhere outside Storybrooke? But then if things went badly, they'd have a long, awkward drive back… no, better to figure something else out here. Should she go big and try to impress or casual and be more herself? She was going to need… something. Flowers. Chocolate? Wine?

Oh, God. What had she done? Her face fell. 

She barely noticed Snow asking her if she was all right.

Maybe Regina would cancel. She'd probably only said yes because she didn't want to hurt her feelings, only that didn't sound much like Regina. No, she said what she thought, with varying degrees of tact, so she probably wanted to go out with Emma, which--

Oh, God. Regina wanted to go out with her.

Emma beamed.

"What?" Emma said. "Oh, yeah. Fine. Good. Great." She leaned down and hugged Snow, who went stiff with surprise. "I just have a lot of planning to do." She dropped some cash to cover her meal and a generous tip and walked away.

"Planning for what? Emma?" Snow called, but Emma wasn't really paying attention anymore. 

She probably couldn't hope for 'really, really well,' but maybe, just maybe she could make it to 'really well.'

Now… what was she going to wear?


End file.
